Biased, We All Stand
by Learninghowtofly
Summary: The next generation finds that certain things, including karma, have gone in a full circle again. To the point where it's almost comical. And face it it's nearly impossible to be unbiased, especially when you grew up being brainwashed. RosexScorpius
1. Chapter 1

I JUST SAW HARRY POTTER AND THE DEATHLY HALLOWS PART 1 AND TOM FELTON IS AMAZING.

Mmmm...

Sorry I know I have a lot of stories on the go but the plot bunnies just keep attacking me.

And in celebration of the new movie, I felt I ought to start another one.

Here's to Rose and Scorp

Hope you like

p.s. And the usual trash disclaimer : I don't own Harry Potter. Enough Said.

* * *

And he looked down at her, lying on the floor.

But it was that one look that was enough to bring back years of memories; memories of being shunned for his blood, his family and his poverty.

These days, the word `deatheater` was spat out in the same fashion that the insult `mudblood` had been used, just from different mouths. And the ministry had taken away almost everything, claiming it to be the spoils of war. Really. After all that his grandmother had done for the wizarding world, going against everything she had been taught so she could protect their savior then to be told that Potter`s life didn`t equate to the amount of damage caused by the Malfoys. Admittedly, Potter himself had proven to be a decent sort. His testimonial was perhaps the only reason Narcissa and his father weren`t spending the rest of their lives in chains. The only reason they had anything at all.

His school has been torture. His home life not much better. At least at home he was free of the constant taunts from fellow school mates, ``What`cha gonna do, Pureblood? Give me a cruciatus curse? Or runaway with your ferret tail between your legs like your father? I always knew rodent features ran in the family!``

And she, he mused, had been a part of all that. No, correction, she had been at the centre of it all. Ever since day one, she had it out for him. Worse so than any of the others in the Potter-Weasley Connection.

Despite severely biased professors throughout his school career, he had managed to excel in all his studies as a silent, personal rebellion. He discovered that if you covered every possible loophole, even those with the largest quantity of grudges could not prevent you from succeeding. Much to his delight, he obtained top marks in each of his years, missing out on being head boy simply because the school board was worried about showing favouritism. Favouritism? He was hated! No matter anyway because once he graduated from Hogwarts (with straight Os), he proved to have an exceptional skill with the muggle stock market and proceeded to earn back the Malfoy family fortune.

The ministry had grown worried of his success. It had even gone as far to accuse him openly of using Dark Magic to manipulate the muggle economy, but after a thorough investigation that demonstrated only the fact that, yes, he did have a superb eye for guessing which market would crash and when, they finally left him alone, with occasional surprise check-ups from time to time to make sure he wasn`t following in the footsteps of his father.

The footstep of his father? HA! That was a good laugh! To think that Scorpius had the intention of becoming Draco? Every night he had seen his father come home to their empty run-down mansion, from a job where he worked to late and was paid too little. He had seen his father`s eyes as he embraced his mother when he arrived home and they were weary, hardened and despaired.

The property was fully restored now (Scorpius had seen to it), and his father was starting to heal but the scars would always be there.

So when he had seen her, it had really taken the proverbial cake.

Worthless, wasted, and currently making friend with the planks of wood on the bar floor, Rose Weasley was finally feeling what it had been like to walk in his shoes.

In Hogwarts, she had done decently well, even going as far as to get Head Girl (Merlin only knows how). No doubt that had been a result of Hermione Granger`s genetics and the afore mentioned biased teachers. It takes more than a couple of mistakes to wreck that.

However, when she had to experience the real world, Gryffindor`s golden girl received a giant reality check.

No, the rules of the world didn`t just not apply to her since she was a war hero`s daughter.

Gravity still held her down.

It was only a matter of time before the heavily censured Daily Prophet stopped covering up her mistakes.

The facts were as such: she had no job, lived in an expensively furnished pent house paid for by her family, and spent her days drinking, throwing herself at blokes and emptying the Potter vault.

She had no friends that weren`t after her for her connections or money, and she had managed to distance the majority of her family even if they still filled her purse.

Actually, when Scorpius thought about it, he realized that she can`t have felt what`s like to walk in his shoes. She had been the one to destroy her life whereas he had been the one to build his. It was impossible for her to have any real idea about the truth of his life.

Still, he had an idea of what it was like to be on the ground and the object of many`s amusement.

From the looks and laughter throughout the crowd, Rose Weasley crawling on the floor was tonights amusement. So, without thinking, he had gone over, picked her up bridal style and walked out of the nightclub.

Except for a couple grumbles about the show disappearing, the spectators witnessed all this, not worried that the niece of their hero had just been possibly kidnapped by the son of a deatheater.

Because, frankly my dears, they didn`t give a damn.

* * *

Rose awoke in bed fit for a queen.

This would have been completely normal had the bed not been a dark shade of emerald. Gold, she thought as she started to drift back to sleep, she distinctly remembered ordering gold covertures to match with the rest of her décor. However, it was probably a good thing they were green because otherwise they wouldn`t have gone with that wardrobe over there….

Wait. Wardrobe? Rose was pretty sure that she had never owned a wardrobe in her life.

She shot up in a flash, and was instantly assailed by a terrible headache. Cradling her head, she glanced to the side to check the time out of habit and found a half full glass and a note, written in an elegant hand that Rose would have never been able to duplicate, on the bedside table

After reading the note, "_A potion for your hangover_", Rose wondered, not for the first time, who the hell had been the ponce she had slept with last night? It occurred to her that she was still fully dressed minus her shoes which were at the foot of the bed. Okay. So then, who was the ponce she had _not_ slept with? What the hell had happened last night? And seriously, what guy actually managed to buy a wardrobe that matched his sheets?

She wrinkled her nose at the potion. She needed another _drink_ not a gross hangover potion. That had been her motto lately: get drunk, pass out somewhere unknown, wake up and get drunk again.

She couldn't properly forget what a failure she was if she was sober. The need to be intoxicated was imminent in Rose's mind.

She groaned as she realized her choice of words. You couldn't survive being Hermione Granger's kid without being affected somehow and now she was letting that part of her slip out again.

Left with no other alternative than staying in a state where she was unable to walk or drinking that disgusting potion, she tilted it, bottoms up.

As the brew started to work its magic, her brain started to focus itself.

She hadn't always been a useless failure. No, as a child she had been bright. The brightest of them all, her father had used to brag as he swung her around. The corners of her mouth turned up at the memory. Her father had been and will always be her hero.

However, in her first year of Hogwarts, she had hit a strange obstacle.

She was no longer top of her class. That spot had been taken by no other than the Scorpius Malfoy, the very boy her hero had told her to beat.

Confused and ashamed, she had tried to turn beating Scorpius into a game, imagining the look on his face when she finally got a higher mark. She would show him, she vowed.

However, this proved not to be so. Because no matter what she tried, from destroying all his pieces of parchment to slipping sleeping potions in his morning pumpkin juice, nothing worked.

By second year, it appeared that her position wasn't going to change and so she, eventually, gave up. She still tormented him of course. How could she not when he was the son of someone who had served Voldemort? She liked to think that even if she wasn't the brightest anymore, she still helped the planet from ridding it of trash like him.

Then, (if this is even possible) it got worse. By fourth year, it appeared that her archrival was growing, well, attractive.

And it seemed like she was the only one who noticed. Whenever she tried to bring up the subject with anyone else (even her boy-crazy cousin Lily), they would just give her a blank look and say, "But he's the enemy, Rose. You don't fraternize with the enemy."

There were a few girls, she admitted (although she would not divulge how she knew this), that would try to flirt with him and get his attention but he would always brush them off with the excuse that he needed to study (at this point, Rose would silently cheer from her hiding spot then curse as she realized that he was studying when she wasn't).

After Hogwarts, she began to realize just easy her school years had been. The professors had all liked her and so she had no trouble turning out good marks with the least amount of effort possible. Now in the real world, she found that being likeable just didn't cut it. So after being fired for the fifth time she'd fallen back on the support of family, finally fully comprehending how utterly useless she'd become.

Oh well, she got up to go to the ensuite washroom to fix her appearance. After all, whoever the heck this guy was, he was rich. It couldn't hurt to keep him for a while if he was still interested. At least this one was after her looks not her money which was much more preferable.

Giving a low whistle at the swimming pool sized bathtub, Rose turned to the mirror, pulled out her wand and began casting a couple quick spells.

First, the mat that she called hair. Now, the bloodshot eyes. And the stained clothing. Ah, much better. She flashed her reflection a quick grin and then walked out of the room, ready to meet her host.

But nothing could have prepared her for the sight that awaited her at the bottom of the stairs. The butterflies in her stomach threatened to explode as she saw none other than Scorpius Malfoy sitting at a table, flipping through the Daily Prophet as he ate his breakfast.

* * *

He really had no idea why he had done what he had done last night. The Weasley could have dealt with herself just fine without his interference. Damn the bloody pureblood morals that every gentleman was responsible to aid any lady in distress. Of course her not being another pureblood would have changed that had he been forty years ahead of his time. But they didn't teach stuff like that anymore, or so he was vaguely aware.

Then a horrified voice cut into his reverie, "I didn't sleep with you, did I?"

Oh yes, right. This was why he had let her stay at his mansion for the night Scorpius thought as he stared into Rose's bugged out eyes. He had done it because now he had something to hold over his tormentors head, a debt of some sort. Not that he would ever call in a debt owed by a lady, Scorpius's gentleman training reminded him, but nevertheless, the idea would still torture her.

"No," he replied smoothly, "I assure you that even if I had ever the intention of doing any actions of that sort, you were in no condition whatsoever to participate as you were nearly unconscious by the time reached you."

With this, Rose finally realized what she had previously said and her cheeks turned red as she retorted, "I forgot. You wouldn't ever want to _sully your reputation_ by sleeping with halfblood scum like me, you deatheater bastard!"

"Actually, my likeness to Draco Malfoy has been remarked upon by many different sources to an extent that there really isn't any debate to who my father is."

"Ugghhhh! You…." At a loss for words, Rose stormed out of the Malfoy mansion.

Scorpius winced as the heavy front doors slammed shut and wondered, when exactly, would she notice that she had left her shoes behind.

* * *

A/N: Scorp is kinda clueless, if you were wondering. And Rose is not very good at expressing her feelings.

And this, my dear readers, is what makes this story


	2. Chapter 2

A/N:

Okay, I've been on complete and utter hiatus for like nine months. At least.

Feel free to pissed off.

It was just like I had winter break, and then there was France (and my lack of internet), and then catching up after France and summer vacation where I was stranded in the middle of nowhere usa (no internet) for half of it and then stuck in the middle of the wilderness camping (also no internet) for the other half of it.

And this school years been a nightmare which I still haven't woken up from.

A month in, I crashed like majorly, had to see a doctor and it turned out that I was like chronically sick from an unbalanced diet and the stress of having four advanced placement academic courses and my other two academic courses in french plus stressful parents.

I'm currently starting to recover and I still have a giant history project, five chem labs and two physics labs due on monday. And I'm pretty sure that the marks go in on monday, so they can't be more late than they already are.

I managed to update this story because it's my favourite at the moment but I'm really sorry that I couldn't keep any of the promises I've made to update other stories.

Even if you can't forgive me for leaving everyone hanging on everything please try and accept this.

I'm not dropping any of my stories.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything you think that you can sue me for.

* * *

Ugghh! She was so mad at Malfoy. Rose frowned as she walked down Malfoy's ridiculously long driveway, the small part of her forehead in-between her eyebrows wrinkled in thought. Her brain hadn't quite reached its full thinking capacity at this hour of the morning and she still felt a little iffy from the hangover potion. But, she was still vaguely aware that something was off.

It wasn't the rain. No, that was common enough. And it wasn't even as if she disliked rain. As long as it wasn't too cold out, and it wasn't, then she actually quite liked it. It reminded her of own misery and helped her self-pity. There was nothing like a good downpour to aid her already pessimistic view on life.

Still, as she said before, there was something off.

Was it Malfoy's lack of retaliation and slash or selfish purpose? Did he really just take me in under his roof for the night with no ulterior motive? Sort of like a knight in shining armour, she mused for a second before vigorously shaking her head and forbidding herself to think such thoughts. No, no, no, no, NO Rose. He hates you and you hate him. Sort of, added a voice in her head, anyways...

Perhaps he had thought she was someone else? Time changes a person. But she dismissed that idea quickly. Even if her undeniably Weasley red hair and the numerous pictures of her that had managed to slip through her famous Uncle Harry's grasp and into the news hadn't confirmed her identity, it was still impossible for her to have changed so much that her childhood adversary, who had once seen her on a daily basis, was unable to recognize her. At least physically, she thought drily.

Plus, it would be far odder for Malfoy to take care of a complete stranger, right? This sudden realization caused the unpleasant question of just how many complete strangers HAD Malfoy taken home, to unwillingly enter her mind.

Not that it was any of her business.

Obviously, this whole humiliation was a scheme completely planned by him in order to... Well, she wasn't quite sure why yet, but there was no doubt it was for some evil deatheater reason. Some deatheater reason, yeah… Oh shoot, now she really wanted to know. Would it be weird if she went back and asked him? No Rosie, she scolded herself, have some pride. You may be an alcoholic loser walking barefoot in puddles out of an enemy's abode, but still, have some pride. You are a Weasley. And no matter how much of a let-down to your family you've been in the past, you are still the daughter of two fricking war hero Gryffindors. The evidence of this is in the fact that, at the age of 23, you are still unable to say the f-word.

Anyways, it was still obviously Malfoy's fault. Never mind the fact that her waking up in an unknown location wasn't exactly an uncommon occurrence. Because she had woken specifically in Malfoy Manor, it was clearly his fault.

Really, she should have suspected him right off the bat. As if the fact that the bedcovers were green wasn't enough, who would be as shady as to take a young lady, against her will (and unconsciously), to his home other than a deatheater Slytherin.

And what a nice home it was, she thought admiringly in remembrance of the elegant bedpost, the custom made bathroom, the soft carpets and beautiful paintings. The rumors from school (which she had never believed btw) of the former elites' poverty had rung false, which left, she concluded, a twisted taste in fashion as the only excuse for the rags he wore in Hogwarts. Although today, he had been the image of a high society gentleman. Perfect in every way. Except for the fact that he's the enemy. And because he was the enemy, she had not thought he had looked cute in that Armani suit he had been wearing while he sipped his coffee. And that cuteness had not been the reason she had been unable to form a proper retort to his verbal attack, just like she had been red because she was angry and not at all because she had been imagining Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy naked. No, not all.

She sighed; one happy thing was that whatever horrible fashion sense caused Malfoy to buy second hand trash for robes had fortunately not been her problem. Oh yes, her lovely Prada stilettos could make any bad day good. She smiled at her red painted toes, squishing the mud between them.

Something clicked in her brain.

Mud.

Toes.

Barefeet.

In puddle.

Oh, no.

No, no, no, no, no, no….

This was not happening.

She had not just further embarrassed herself by leaving her gorgeous strappy shoes at the Malfoy Mansion.

Oh, if only they were a different pair.

She pondered for a moment which was more humiliating: going back and facing Him, or just leaving barefoot.

But because they were her absolute favourite, she would have to go back into the Dragon's Lair and go get them.

Curse you, Scorpius Malfoy, for abducting me and stealing my shoes.

* * *

It took her longer than he expected for her return.

Oh Scorpius, he mentally chided himself, don't tell me you were actually anxious to gaze upon the harpy.

But the truth was that the owl he had received earlier had forced to make a decision that would have rather made.

Because, you see, Scorpius Malfoy had some pressing troubles of his own although of a less immediate kind yet unwanted all the same.

He had been recently trying to expand his business into the wizarding world and it wasn't going so well. Unfortunately for him, at the moment, the only ones with the times enough to desire a stockbroker were, you guessed it, muggleborns who felt, no thanks to his grandfather and great aunt, more than a little animosity towards anyone bearing the bloodlines of the Blacks and Malfoys.

Which, as his halfblood assistant said, narrowing his eyes at his boss, was perfectly reasonable.

And after hearing his father's horror stories about his relatives, Scorpius Malfoy entirely agreed.

With all this compiled together, Scorpius finally, unwilling, reached the unwelcome realization that he would have to hire a person with enough influence and image in society to completely overshadow his entire family history. After the war, the best person to do that would be someone who was directly tied to the war heroes, a Gryffindor would be preferable. And sadly, the person that he knew to be the most capable, most available, most convenient, most suited, and most likely to accept (which was not very likely but still had the best odds) the job was…

Giant double doors slammed in the distance, echoing through the Manor.

Ah, well, from the sounds of it, that very person had just entered his home, no doubt in search of her shoes and completely unaware that she might just be leaving with more than she had originally bargained for.

And by 'might just' he meant 'most definitely would'.

* * *

Okay so maybe she hadn't intended to slam the door quite so loudly, in doing so she had probably premeditatedly alerted him to her return. He was most likely gloating over his tea (and falsely so) that Rose Weasley had been continually throwing herself at him before breakfast.

Err… At least, before _her_ breakfast.

Speaking of which, she was starving. Merlin only knew how long it had been since she'd had a proper meal. Maybe later on she'd dress up and treat herself to nice lunch in Diagon Alley since she was already up and moving.

She caught her breath just before rounded the corner that would take her face to face with the scorpion. Thank god for all her previous experience of navigating manors and castles, far more complicated than that of the Malfoy Manor, after a night with its young lord, or she would have been so lost. She was particularly good at finding the bedroom and then she would usually find herself particularly good at finding the exit.

"Malfoy," She greeted as she entered the specific room that she appeared to be unfortunately particularly good at finding.

"Weasley." He returned the nicety.

The damn git had put down the newspaper, and was now casually sipping his tea. See, she thought furiously, I knew it. He's gloating over his tea, the little bugger. "It so happens that you have something of mine."

"As you have something of mine."

"What? Are you so low to accuse me of stealing? I have taken nothing from this Manor." Bewildered, Rose wondered what on Earth he could possibly mean.

"Except for my peace and sanity, apparently, which I want returned after you have eaten something and removed your shoes, and hopefully your presence as well, from my home."

"Eat? When did I promise to eat anything_ in_ _your home_?"

"It would be a grave insult towards my hospitality for you to assume that I wouldn't offer a visitor breakfast, and I can't imagine that you've had something decent to eat for a while."

Simultaneously mollified by the idea that she'd somehow insulted him, irritated by the fact that he had a point, and unwillingly agreeing with the latter part of his logic; she sat down silently in the proffered chair and waved a house elf over with a plate that had obviously already been previously prepared.

The pompous prat.

"I can't imagine that your manners would be the only reason behind you breakfasting with me."

"What? A young man can't ask a young lady to dine with him without some ulterior motive?"

Stung and ready to retract her previous comment, Rose made to speak but was interrupted as Malfoy continued.

"However, it seems that, in this case, you are correct. As it is, I have a bit of a business offer to propose to you."

"A business offer?"

"Yes, about a job position in my company to be exact."

"A_ job position_? Working for_ you_?"

"Try and think of it as public relations except without the paperwork. I'm sure you can handle that." His derogatory tone turned the sentence into an insult.

Put out by his obvious low standard of her, she replied, "So basically what you're saying is that I just have to charm people? If it's only that then I am quite capable, but I do have to ask what's in it for me?"

"Besides the fact that you'll be receiving a salary from me and that you owe me a favor for taking you in when you were too drunk to stand?" He raised an eyebrow at her, and Rose seethed, irritated by the fact the embarrassing events of last night clearly served as amusement for him.

"I have no need for money, and I was unconscious when you did me the 'so-called' favor. Nothing you can say could tempt me."

"But that's it, isn't it? You're already tempted. Face it Weasley, you are bored," He punctuated the last couple of words with a pause after each. "Your life hasn't turned out to be as interesting as you thought it would be, what with the _potential_ that your teachers and family thought you had. Now it seems like a bunch of lies, huh? But trust me Weasley, I know potential and you've still got it."

"That's funny," Rose remarked drily, "because in my experience, a man only says 'trust me' when he's desperate."

Surprised, Scorpius looked taken aback for a second before he acknowledged the truth of her statement with a small smile that eased the tension a bit. "You caught me, I am desperate. And you shouldn't just watch your whole life go down the drain. So accept the job and finally do something with your life."

"And what makes you think that I haven't heard that fucking speech from all my friends and family. It's not something that I'd expected from you. I don't want you're goddamn pity."

He gave a growl of frustration. "I'm not giving you my fucking pity. I'm not one of your friends, and I'm sure as hell not one of your family. Don't expect me to spend the whole time flattering you so I can get in with the Granger-Weasley Connection. You quit all those jobs, didn't you?" In response to her silence, he continued. "I'll expect you to work."

She was quiet. "I'm not my mother."

"And I'm not hiring Hermione Granger, nor are you being hired by Draco Malfoy." He shook his head in exasperation. "I'm hiring the girl that I went to school with."

"You really shouldn't."

"I think that I already mentioned that I was desperate."

"Only a Malfoy would say that he'd have to be desperate to hire a Weasley."

He didn't contradict.

She allowed a small smile to cross her features. "My father won't be happy."

A last testament to their warring parents.

"He already isn't." Scorpius's expression mirrored her own. "I'll see you on Monday at 7 o'clock sharp."

* * *

A/N: I'm really happy how this story is going. I really think that it's my best so far. I've already written parts of future chapters and now I'm really excited.

Please don't hate Rose. She's a bitch. I know. But she's as brainwashed as Draco Malfoy was. I'm trying to turn tables here. And we all know how much of a bastard Draco can be (he won't really be one though in this story, the war has worn him out too much).

And I'm probably going to make Scorpius enough of a bastard to suitably match Rose's bitch.

They'll be united in, well, what would you call this sort of thing?

Bitchybastardness?

But to be clear my objective is not to make people hate them.

I want to make them real. Or as real as fictional characters can be.

I just have a bad habit of writing mary sues and I really didn't want Rose to be one. So, I guess I made everyone hate her instead of like her?


End file.
